


Star-Spangled Distraction

by AshenStardust



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bondage, Dark!Steve, F/M, Fucking for dominance, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23960500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshenStardust/pseuds/AshenStardust
Summary: The Reader is paired with Steve for a mission. You are less than pleased with the situation and Steve decides professionalism isn't the best course of action.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	Star-Spangled Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Tagging Dark!Steve because I realize this is ooc for the good captain.  
> Sometimes a person just wants to be hurt/fucked by the Captain of America, ya know?

“I know you were against having a partner for this mission,” Steve said as he boarded the Quinjet. He wasn’t late. You’d come early in hopes of taking off without him.

“No,” unconvincing, “no, its fine.” You were struggling to sound pleasant. “You be a star-spangled distraction and I’ll do all the heavy lifting,” you said. Someday you would learn to be a professional. Today was not that day.

Steve took it in stride. Like an asshole. “Okay,” he agreed, “what’s your plan?”

“Well.” You clasped your hands together. “I was going to drop in, kill everyone, blow up the building, and leave,” you said. It was a simple plan – your usual. Steve quirked a brow and strapped himself in for takeoff.

“I can see why they would want you to have a partner,” he said. His tone was so dry you couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Was that allowed? You frowned to yourself. The Quinjet took off smoothly and you didn’t bother to sit and buckle. You would, usually, to make the pilot happy.

The Quinjet was near painfully silent as you were flown into hostile airspace. “Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Steve asked. 

“I have a reputation to uphold,” you said without looking at him. 

“And what’s that?”

“Throwing a tantrum to get my way,” you replied. The pilot coughed to cover his reaction. You heard Steve unbuckle and get up but kept your eyes fixed out the cockpit. 

He grabbed you by your hair and pulled. You yelped and your hands went up to try and ease his grip. He pulled you back until you collided with his body. You looked up to his face. “You talked to Natasha,” you breathed.

“You disgust me,” he said. He sounded like he meant it. You swallowed. He seemed dangerous and you didn’t know what to do about it. You knew what you wanted to do. As it was, he had the control. “She told me to fuck you into the floor and drop you out the back without a chute,” he rumbled in your ear. 

Your breath caught and you were suddenly grateful he was supporting your body weight. “Is that a promise?” you asked shakily. Steve scoffed and dropped you. You fell to your knees and rubbed your fingers over your scalp. You looked up at him. He’d taken a few steps away. You stayed like that until the Quinjet entered the drop zone. 

You stood and quickly strapped your gear on. Steve put on his own gear in the corner of your eye. There was a large part of you that didn’t trust him now. “You should have done as she instructed,” you said as you stepped up to the opening ramp. You spun and fell backwards. He caught you before the open air had a chance to take you. 

“That can still be arranged,” he warned. There was a coldness in his eyes, and you matched his look with an incredulous one of your own. He’d had his chance before and he’d made his decision. He held you like that for only a handful of seconds, but time felt like it was dragging. “Take us around another time,” Steve commanded.

“but-“ the pilot was cut off.

“You heard me,” Steve said. But another time around would give your targets another chance to target you. The pilot started moving the Quinjet again and the ramp closed behind you. Steve pulled you to standing and then used his free hand to slap you. The crack of his hand against your face was louder than the shout it elicited from you. His hand returned, gently, to stroke your cheek. You couldn’t miss the way his lips turned up when you flinched. “Get out of this, or I’ll cut you out.”

Shaking hands rose to fumble with the buckles of your parachute. “What-“ you had to clear your throat, “What changed your mind?” you asked. Your voice was no more level on the second try.

Steve stayed silent. There was a concern in his features. Interesting. He pushed your hands out of the way and undid the parachute himself. The equipment thunked to the floor. “Maybe if you’re good I’ll tell you,” he mused. He took a hold of the zipper at the front of your tactical suit and pulled down. He frowned when he saw you were wearing another layer underneath.

“Its uncomfortable on my skin,” you explained. His return to tenderness had you more on edge than if he’d stayed hard and fast. He hummed thoughtfully and you wondered if divulging that information was going to come back to bite you.

He only unzipped you as far as your waist. “Can you pull down your pants or do I need to do it for you?” he asked. The coldness had returned, and you hesitated a heartbeat too long. His jaw set and he gripped your hips and spun you around. You had to catch the wall with your hands to keep from toppling over. He’d positioned you more than you thought he would be able to. You were bent at the waist and he had tied your wrists up in the mesh of the equipment storage.

He pulled your pants down with your underwear enough to expose your cunt. Your legs were pressed together under the restriction of the bunched fabric. There was a long moment where nothing happened. Then his hand cracked on your ass. You hadn’t been expecting that. You crushed against the equipment from the force of his hit. He fisted a hand in your hair to pull you back into the position he wanted.

Another blow landed. Another. Four strikes hitting home in the exact same spot. For what it was worth he drew only grunts from you, but he hit damn hard. “What do you think?” he asked taking a chunk of abused flesh between his fingers and pinching. You did scream then.

“Please,” you keened when he didn’t let go. Please hit me. Please fuck me. Your begging went unvoiced because he let go of your ass and plunged two fingers into your cunt. You groaned instead and when his fingers curled and pulled roughly out your legs shook.

“Fuck your wet,” he said as he wiped your slick off on your skin. There was some rustling, but his hand in your hair disabled you from turning to look. You heard what sounded like his parachute hitting the floor and sliding away. His fingers came back to rub your clit and you moaned. “How did Natasha know to tell me?” he asked. 

You whined. An ‘I don’t know’ sat on the tip of your tongue. His fingers kept up their incessant rubbing. You twitched and shifted and wondered if he could tell how long it’d been since you’d been touched by how quickly you went to the edge of orgasm. He knew exactly when to stop too, and you groaned your displeasure at being denied. “How?” he prompted.

He slapped your ass again. You felt the air of threat he’d do it again. If he didn’t hit so hard it might’ve been fun. “She got me drunk,” you admitted in a shout. “I,” he hadn’t asked you to elaborate, “it was after... She wanted to help,” you said. Well, he hadn’t asked, and it turned out you didn’t want to tell.  
Steve had been silent during your explanation. As soon as you stopped you felt the head of his cock press against your entrance. He felt thick and the position of your legs made you tighter than normal. Without flourish he pushed himself in to the hilt. One swift thrust in and he stilled. You gasped. The burn of it felt good, grounding.

When he pulled out you had the distinct sense the pause was for his sake, not yours. You were soaking, but you were not prepared for his girth and what little time he’d given you to adjust had not been enough. He set a punishing pace and you didn’t have to wonder what enhancements his body had undergone. “Do you want to cum?” he asked.

That was, perhaps, a stupid question. It was one you answered after he timed a smack to your ass with a particularly cruel thrust. “Yes! Fuck. Yes - Steve I want to cum.”

He groaned above you and you worried for a moment he’d orgasm, and you’d be left wet and unfulfilled. His cock pulsed inside you, but his fingers found your clit and he pushed harsh circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You moaned and shuddered. Steve untangled his fingers from your hair to support your weight by your hips as your legs shook and threatened to give out underneath you. His thrusts staggered as your cunt gripped him in the waves of your orgasm. He groaned long and low in your ear and you felt his cock flex and his thrusts slowed to almost nothing.

He removed his fingers from your clit and slipped out of you. You felt the mixture of his cum and yours trail down your leg and you shifted uncomfortably when you felt it begin to seep into the cloth of your pants. You looked over your shoulder and saw Steve putting himself back together and reequipping his parachute.

“Want some help?” you asked, but your tone was more breathy than biting.

“They were right,” he said, his eyes drug over you as he approached the back of the Quinjet. You blushed in shame at the utter revulsion in his tone. They? “He ruined you,” he said before you could ask. You recoiled and looked away. 

You heard the ramp descend and your head snapped back up. “Hey!” you shouted, and struggled against the knot he’d wrapped your hands in. He didn’t bother to look back at you and once there was clearance he dropped out of the Quinjet.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always greatly appreciated!  
> I love getting feedback :).


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